


Jean-Pierre and the Major

by glymr



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Snippet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-26
Updated: 2009-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-03 18:11:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glymr/pseuds/glymr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You see?” she said. “Already you treat me differently. You should certainly not have done that had you still thought I was a man.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jean-Pierre and the Major

**Author's Note:**

> I thought, as long as I’m posting new stories here, I might as well post some of the other things I have lying around on my hard drive as well.
> 
> Everybody’s got their kinks. One of mine - a big one - is the whole “girl pretends to be a man and passes for such in society”. Georgette Heyer’s “The Masqueraders” is one of my all time favorite novels for this reason. This snippet was a throwaway part of an online game that didn’t last, but I always really liked it. I think it’s fairly self-explanatory. It’s also hot, if I do say so myself.

They met in the antechamber. She had removed her gloves and neck cloth in preparation for drawing on her heavier travel gloves and wrapping her thick woolen muffler around her neck. But for now she stood, shadowy in the dim light, a thin figure with slim, white hands and a delicate throat.

Driven by a strange impulse he did not quite understand, the Major took one of those slim hands in his own and bent down to kiss it. The figure stood quite still, an ironic gleam in its eyes, but he felt the slightest tremour course through the fingers he held.

“You see?” she said. “Already you treat me differently. You should certainly not have done that had you still thought I was a man.”

“No indeed,” he said. “Nor this,” he turned the hand over and kissed her wrist, then her palm. This time there was a definite tremble in her fingers, and he thought he heard the breath catch in her throat.

“I am almost inclined to ask what else you would not do, if you thought I was a man,” she said. Her voice was very dry, but held the faintest overtone of breathlessness. He caught the glitter of challenge in her eyes.

“I am almost inclined to tell you,” he replied and, leaning forward, pressed his lips to her neck just below her jaw. He could feel her pulse beating wildly, feel the tiny cry she choked back at his touch.

He drew back again and looked down into her eyes.

“I don't need you to protect me,” she said levelly, “and I don't need you to provide for me. I don't _need_ you at all. And yet...” she faltered. “and yet, I-I...” she could not quite bring herself to say it, but her mouth formed the words in spite of herself. He heard the whisper as she breathed, “I _want_ you.”

The Major had plenty of experience in dealing with feminine wiles. Many women had laid themselves at his feet, many had hoped to win him. Their coquetry, their feigned and genuine innocence, their alluring, teasing ways...he had seen them all. And yet none had inflamed him as this, the simple bald admission wrenched against her will from one who was more man than woman.

He closed the inches between them again, capturing her lips with his own. She did not fight him, but nor did she give in to him: meeting strength with strength. It excited him more than he could have imagined, and she responded to him as though she had oil instead of blood in her veins, and each of his kisses was a spark.

At the faint sound of the antechamber door opening behind them they pulled apart quickly, but not quickly enough. Michel stared at the two of them, deeply startled and secretly delighted. He bit back a laugh at their expressions. Even in the dim light he could see the colour rushing into Jean's cheeks, and the Major was as red as a brick.

“I beg your pardon,” said Michel as he began to close the door again.

“Mich! Wait!” cried the Major. The Frenchman paused, looking at his friend inquiringly. “I...we...” the Major stammered, glancing at Jean.

She was putting on her gloves. “Thank you for a lovely evening as usual, Michel,” she said with a small smile. “I hope we shall see each other again soon.” She wound the muffler around her neck and face, and then and only then glanced at the Major. The two of them looked at each other helplessly for a moment but said nothing. Finally she gave him a grave nod, then turned and walked out into the snowy night without another word.


End file.
